


Five Times The Avengers Got On Tony Stark’s Last Nerve, And One Time He Got Them Back

by Cinnamon_Anemone



Series: Tony Stark Bingo (2019-2020) [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Crack, Domestic Avengers, Everybody Lives, Gen, Jarvis lives, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Slice of Life, Team as Family, Tony is a grumpy old man and everyone else is a bunch of punks, everyone is one big goofy dorky family and nothing hurts, it’s like the 2012 Avengers Tower Era plus all the later characters that I like, pranks and nonsense abound
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Anemone/pseuds/Cinnamon_Anemone
Summary: Tony is housing a team of superhumans, superassassins, and superspies, and they are all super, super annoying.
Series: Tony Stark Bingo (2019-2020) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1472486
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	1. one time Clint ate Tony’s ice cream

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is basically a dumping ground for short and silly one-shots of the Avengers goofing off in some vaguely-defined canon-divergent universe where everybody lives and everybody gets along, because I refuse to leave the 2012 Era and you can’t make me. 
> 
> This is totally self-indulgent, and mostly a way for me to collect miscellaneous bingo prompts into something a little more coherent, and that means I’ll probably just add chapters to it as the inspiration strikes me and not try to finish it on any particular schedule. That said, there’s no real plot here, and each of the chapters will stand alone just fine! I’ll fill out the 5+1 format eventually, but until then, I hope you enjoy the individual chapters as they come. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communal refrigerators: the leading cause of roommate murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fulfills my S3: Confession In A Desperate Situation square (card #3045) for the 2020 Tony Stark Bingo.

“Stark.”

“Yes, Barton?”

“I have a confession to make.”

Tony doesn’t look up from his work, but his hands still very briefly and his lips turn down into a faint frown. 

“Well, I hope it’s not a very poorly-timed confession of love, Barton, because I’ll be honest, if we’re going to die here, I think I’d rather die not knowing about that.”

“No, it’s not that. But it’s very important. I want you to know.”

This time Tony does look up for a moment, and when he sees the deathly-serious expression on Clint’s face, he sighs. “Barton,” he says, exasperation tinging his tone. “Before you say anything, I want you to think very carefully and consider the fact that I am _disarming a bomb_ , with my bare hands, while we are trapped inside a collapsed building, and I don’t have my suit which means neither of us is wearing anything more protective than a light jacket. I am _literally_ trying to cut the red wire, here. If you’re going to make a joke to try to ‘lighten the mood,’ this is me telling you that the mood does _not_ need to be lightened.” 

“Right.”

“Glad we’re on the same page. Pass me that knife?”

Clint hands the pocket knife over. “So, remember that time when you were having a really shitty day because of something that happened with the Board, I don’t know, and you came back to the Tower and were looking for the last carton of Ben and Jerry’s Bourbon Pecan Pie—”  
  
“Oh my god.”

“—but someone had eaten it, and you ordered more, but by the time the food delivery got there we’d had to leave for an emergency Avengers call, and when we got back, the new carton had accidentally gotten left out on the counter and melted—”

“I genuinely cannot believe this is happening right now. I’m going to die listening to Robin Hood ramble about ice cream.”

“—and you were so tired that you just gave up and went to bed and then you were pissy about it for the rest of the week?”

“Yes, _Clinton_ , I remember that,” Tony grits out. He’s staring so closely at the tiny mechanism he’s disassembling that he’s practically got his nose buried in it, but his face doesn’t need to be visible to read the aggravation in his voice. 

“I ate it.” 

Tony just replies with a quiet, strangled noise of frustration. 

“Sorry. I wanted to get that off my chest, you know, in case we blow up.” 

Tony takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He’s quiet for a few seconds, and then there’s a soft _chunk_ from the device. He sits up and gives Clint a murderous glare. “We are not going to blow up, because I just disarmed the bomb, no thanks to you, because I am a genius, and you are what, exactly? Remind me what your role on the team is, other than being deeply annoying? Because I have these designs for this flying robot that shoots arrows, and I’m thinking it might be time to bring it into production and retire the prototype.” 

“I’m just here for moral support,” Clint says, and beams at him. “See, you were so annoyed you forgot to be nervous, and now the bomb’s disarmed. No sweat. Anyway, who says you get to have the monopoly on quipping in a crisis? I figured I’d give it a try, since you were too busy this time. You’re welcome.” 

Tony glares harder, and Clint grins wider. Tony reaches for his comms earpiece and switches it back on. “Hey there, team. Good news: bomb disarmed.”

Steve’s relieved voice crackles over the line. “That’s fantastic, Tony. We’re still working on your extraction, just sit tight.” 

“Great. Glad to hear it. Bad news, though. Barton didn’t make it. Such a shame. Crushed under a big block of cement, it’s a nasty thing, very traumatic.”

“Is that so,” Nat says dryly. 

“I am _not—_ ” Clint starts, and then the rest of his sentence is muffled as Tony puts his hand over his face and shoves him away.

“Yep. Honestly, probably not even worth trying to retrieve his body, it’s really squished under there. Best just to call it a loss and build over it. I’ll put up a really nice plaque for him or something. Anyway, how do we feel about Ben and Jerry’s on the way home? I’ve got the strangest craving for a cone of Bourbon Pecan Pie.” 


	2. one time Pietro kept moving Tony’s stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has a lot of regrets in his life. Like his terrible relationship with his father, and his involvement in the arms trade, and the way he acted when he thought he was dying, and letting an insufferable menace called Quicksilver join the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fulfills my S1: Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver square (card #3045) for the 2020 Tony Stark bingo.

Tony reaches for his smoothie, and closes his hand around empty air. 

He gropes about blindly for a few seconds, and then gives up and looks away from 3D model he’s tweaking. He’s sure he put it within reach… Hm. No smoothie. He looks to the other side of the table. Still no smoothie. Weird. On the floor? Did he leave it at another workstation? Tony could swear he was just drinking out of it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he got distracted and lost track of his snacks. He spends a minute hunting for it without any success, and shrugs it off. Worst case scenario, he’ll find it once it starts to smell. 

…

Tony’s phone pings with Pepper’s text tone, and he absently pats his pockets for it. It takes him a couple seconds to realize that he doesn’t feel it in any of his pockets, and the trill came from farther away. He frowns. The phone pings again, and he turns his head towards the noise to see his phone sitting on top of the old 3D printer that he’d decommissioned a week ago. What the hell? He hasn’t even used that area of the workshop today. When did he put his phone down there?

He gets up, walks over to the phone, picks it up, and squints suspiciously at it. It doesn’t spontaneously sprout legs and try to wriggle out of his hands, so he taps out a reply to Pepper and slips it back into his pocket with a shake of his head. Maybe he’s just not getting enough sleep. 

…

“Hey. Genius. Yeah, you, you bucket of bolts. What did I say about picking up the blowtorch? What have I said about picking up flammable things in general?”

Dum-E bloops petulantly and wiggles his claw in denial. 

“I don’t want your sass, it was right here a second ago. You are a terrible liar and a terrible child. I can’t believe I won a robotics award for you.”

Dum-E rolls back and forth on his treads a few times, whistles, and points up to the top of some cabinets. Tony follows the gesture, and sees the blowtorch. On top of the cabinets. At least three feet out of Dum-E’s reach. 

“What the _hell_ ,” Tony swears.

...

“All right, I’m done with this! You hear me? Done. Either something in my lab is generating temporary wormholes or someone is _fucking_ with me, because I know, for a fact, that I did not just misplace the entire helmet that I was working on, right here, in the middle of this table, literally three seconds ago!” 

Tony’s voice rises to an undignified shriek at the end of that, but he does not care, because stuff has been going missing or getting moved around to bizarre places all fucking week and Tony has _had it_. 

“J, I need you on this one, buddy, because I am this close to retiring and checking myself into a memory care facility. Please tell me you’re picking something up on your cameras.”

“I believe retirement is unnecessary, Sir. Although the activity has been difficult to capture on my cameras, certain distinctive energy readings would suggest that the culprit is the Compound’s new fleet-footed resident.”

“Of _course_ it is,” Tony seethes. “ _MAXIMOFF!_ ” he bellows. 

In an instant, Pietro is standing in his lab, hip leaned casually against the table, with the goddamn Iron Man helmet on his head. That little _shit_. 

“Yes, Mister Stark?” he asks, and the voice modulator does absolutely nothing to disguise his smug cheerfulness. 

Tony yanks the helmet off his head and smacks it back down on the table. He points at Pietro accusingly. “If you keep moving my stuff, I am taking you back to the pound.”

“I am sure I will be fine. I have very sweet eyes, and nice hair. I think I am very adoptable.” He grins.

“JARVIS, is there any reason that I agreed to feed and house this incredibly irritating young person? This seems very unlike me. I think I must have had some kind of head trauma.”

“If I recall correctly, Sir, it was because he helped you save the human species from an apocalyptic artificial intelligence of your own creation.”

“Horrible decision. Reverse it immediately, please. I want a refund.”

“I will put it on the agenda, Sir,” JARVIS indulgently lies. 

“And you— scram. If I catch you messing around in here one more time, I _will_ put a cowbell around your neck. Just watch me.” 

Pietro’s eyes crinkle with amusement, and he pats Tony on the shoulder. “You will have to catch me first, old man.” And then he’s gone. Tony glares at the empty spot. 

“JARVIS? Remind me to never have children. I never want to associate with anyone under the age of thirty for the rest of my life.”

“You have already asked me to do so, at current count, seventeen times. I can assure you that this directive has been quite thoroughly logged.” 

“Good,” Tony grumbles, and reaches for his coffee. 

His hand closes around empty air. 

He looks over to where he’d put down his coffee cup, and then looks past it, to the remainder of the suit that belongs to the helmet he’d been working on. There is a coffee mug balanced on its shoulder. As he watches, the mug slides off the smooth metal and crashes to the floor, and coffee and ceramic shards explode in every direction.

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake!” Tony howls.


End file.
